


On Summer and Sunshine

by littlemiss_m



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: First Time, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Sex, Shy prompto, a very brief mention of d/s but no actual bdsm in any way, but they're in love and happy, gladio is super mushy and in love, prompto is also in love and trying his best to show that, so they have very sweet sex that's more fluffy than sexy, virgin prompto
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-12 13:22:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15340758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlemiss_m/pseuds/littlemiss_m
Summary: It's the lazy evening of a lazy Saturday spent together, and though his skin is damp with sweat and his body long since overheated, Gladio has very quickly come to realize one thing: he loves Prompto Argentum.Gladio, Prompto, and an evening of very soft loving.





	On Summer and Sunshine

**Author's Note:**

> A very random oneshot that changed directions midway when I got hit by a massive heat wave :) I haven't really written smut for this fandom before, aside from a very brief sex scene in _A Summer's Day_ , so I'm a little nervous about posting this, lol! At the same time, it's probably the ery first time I found myself not struggling with writing Gladio (whom I love to read about but despite to write), so all in all, this turned out pretty fine! I hope you'll all enjoy :)

It's the lazy evening of a lazy Saturday spent together, and though his skin is damp with sweat and his body long since overheated, Gladio has very quickly come to realize one thing: he loves Prompto Argentum. They lay wrapped into each other's embraces, legs entwined and sweat pooling where their bodies press together as they share languid kisses and let their hands roam without a care. It's not the first time they're doing this and there's a certain familiarity to it, a casual passion that's only just starting to grow between them. Gladio's been around the block a time or two before, knows how to touch and how he likes being touched, but Prompto – Prompto's still unsure and learning, not yet ready for more.

Gladio doesn't mind the wait. It's not like he got Prompto the second he began to notice his own interest, and things are good enough like this, spending time together and finding moments for cuddling and some petting, heavier each passing instance. They've rutted to completion against each other before, clothes still on and hands glued to safer places while sharing groans and sighs between them. It's what they're doing right now, as they lay on his bed, under the dimming sunshine streaming through dark curtains. There's no other source of light because of how easily Prompto feels embarrassed. In daylight, all his insecurities are visible, the stretch marks on his hips and the little slouching belly Gladio secretly adores. He almost dreams of pressing his hand down on the alluring softness between Prompto's navel and crotch, but it's not a desire he can speak about quite yet.

”Someone's lost in thought,” Prompto murmurs softly, propping himself up on his elbows so he can gaze down at Gladio. The last sunrays halo his already golden hair and Gladio grins, cranes his neck to suck Prompto's lower lip into his mouth before speaking.

”Just thinking 'bout my pretty baby,” he croons, enjoying the flush that deepens on Prompto's cheeks as he ducks his head down shyly.

”Yeah?” Prompto asks. His face is partially obscured by damp strands of blond hair but Gladio can _just_ see the blue of his eyes, looking at him through pale lashes. He's grinning, too, in the shy but excited way he does at times like this, when he's comfortable in his skin and almost able to ask for more. The heatwave sweeping over Insomnia has left them both lazy and boneless in a way that makes even the smallest comfort that much more pleasurable, and Prompto hasn't espaced unscathed.

Gladio loves him like this. He drops his hands from Prompto's shoulders to the dip at the bottom of his spine, where a cotton tee is riding up to reveal a sliver of heated skin above the waistline of a pair of very tight jeans. He loves this Prompto, this happy, hopeful goof who looks down at him like he was the sun in the sky, who tries so hard to be open when his instincts tell him to close up instead.

”Yeah,” Gladio murmurs, leaning in for a chaste kiss. Prompto can't look him in the eye for longer than a split second but Gladio can't look away from him, not even when his heart swells to the size of a basketball and wetness threatens his eyes. ”Yeah, Prom. Gods, I love you so much.”

Their relationship is new enough that the L-word hasn't yet been repeated many times over, but old enough that hearing it is not a shock to either to them. Prompto's blush deepens but so does his grin. He leans down for a kiss that Gladio is more than happy to return, but then he's pulling back, and though there once was a time when such movements made Gladio's heart miss a beat, those days have long since passed. Prompto sits back until he's straddling Gladio's hips, grinds down in a way that forces a huff of air out of Gladio's lungs, as if the sight of him biting down on his lip wasn't enough to steal Gladio's breath away.

Prompto won't repeat the words, not like this – he whispers them to Gladio's ears when he thinks he's asleep, or when he pretends to think so – but the expression on his face says everything Gladio needs to know. This isn't a one-sided thing, nor is it a simple fling, or something short-lived – or so Gladio wishes, at least, because he's fallen fast and hard and the idea of holding onto Prompto for forever grows more and more important with each passing day.

Prompto's still moving, shifting his hips slightly, and when Gladio looks up at him, he sees a question the other is too nervous to ask. Pushing up a little, Gladio sets his hands on Prompto's hips, holds him down and guides him into a swivel that rubs their clothed dicks together. He's hornier than he's been in ages, his cock hard and leaking in the confines of his leather pants, and the constant, shifting pressure is enough to keep him right on the edge.

”Hey, uh,” Prompto whispers, pausing for a gasp that turns into a drawn-out groan. ”Do you – d'you wanna–”

He won't finish the sentence but Gladio thinks he knows what he's asking for, and the heat in his groin threatens to burst when he realizes this is Prompto trying to ask for more. ”Yeah, baby?” Gladio groans. ”You wanna do more? Frotting not good enough for you anymore?”

He speaks the words with a teasing lilt and is rewarded by the most adorable pout he's ever seen. ”Not if you're gonna be a jerk about it,” Prompto responds, crossing his arms petulantly, and Gladio's laugh booms from the very bottom of his stomach.

”Awe, I'm so _sorry_ , babe,” he grins, trying to placate Prompto by rubbing his thumbs into the soft skin above Prompto's jeans, bypassing stretch marks and freckles alike. Prompto continues to pout, but he's also red-faced and clearly trying to hold back his own laughter. ”You're just so damn subby sometimes, you know? Makes a man wanna throw you down and get down dirty.”

This is something they definitely haven't talked about in the past but Gladio has seen it, the way Prompto is content to let him take the lead and guide him further into whatever it is they've been doing with each other. It's probably not even a kink, but Prompto's lack of experience combining with his shyness and insecurities, but the end result is the same. When Prompto ducks his head, Gladio grins in return and flips them over fast enough to surprise the other, lays his entire weight on Prompto's body and takes hold of a pair of hands much smaller than his own while Prompto wiggles a leg free and hooks it around Gladio's.

”You've got too many clothes on,” Prompto murmurs. His nerves shine through the remnants of the earlier bravado so Gladio dips in for a kiss before sitting back on his haunches. He pulls his tank over his head and tosses it aside, leering down at a furiously blushing Prompto whose hands, once they're done covering the hot redness, move to Gladio's hips instead. The touch is hesitant at first, light enough to feel like a tickle, so he grabs Prompto's hands and presses then closer.

”You know you can touch me all you want, baby,” he says, grinning almost deviously. Prompto makes a sound that's something between a whine and a hiccup, a sound Gladio can't resist hearing, and bucks up when Gladio grinds down against him.

This time, his words earn him a huff of laughter. ”You're so full of shit,” Prompto mumbles, more humored than shy for once, but he doesn't let go even after Gladio removes his own hands in favor of laying then down on Prompto's belly and guiding them down until his palms touch denim. Prompto bites down on his lip, squirms upwards into Gladio's hands, but the returning shyness is enough to warrant a question.

”What d'you wanna do, baby?” Gladio murmurs, rubbing small circles with his hands. ”Can I touch you? Will you let me?”

Still biting his lip, Prompto nods and retracts his hands. Instead of speaking up, he tugs at the hem of his shirt until the tips of Gladio's fingers disappear under the warm, sweat-damp fabric. ”Yeah,” he croaks after a beat, and when he swallows, a gleam of light catches on the bob of his throat. ”Yeah. And I, I wanna – I could suck you off.”

Every time Gladio thinks there's simply no way for Prompto's flush to grow any redder, he's proven wrong. His dick pulses where it's still confined in his pants, and Gladio wants nothing more but to push a hand in and do something about the fire burning deep in his belly, but with Prompto squirming underneath him... A groan slips from his throat.

”You'd want to do that?” he asks, eyes closed for a beat while he feels around under Prompto's shirt, tugging it upwards inch by inch. ”Aww, babe, think I could return the favor?”

Prompto nods, almost furiously, and props his upper body on his elbows. ”Yeah,” he says. ”Shit, Gladio, I just – I want to–”

He doesn't finish the sentence but Gladio thinks he understands it all the same, thinks he can see a new kind of fire in Prompto's half-lidded eyes. ”Uh-huh,” he groans, chuckling a little. ”Pants?”

They both favor a cut so tight there's no point in trying to be sexy with stripping down, so after one last kiss, they roll of the bed and get to work on kicking off their pants. It does thinks to the mood, breaks off the heat and creates a new distance, but when Gladio straightens up and turns around to face Prompto once more, he finds there's nothing wrong with it after all. He looks at Prompto, who's nervously tugging at the hem of his shirt, still far more clothed than Gladio who's down to his boxers, and tenderness fills his heart like the last haze of the setting sun. Smiling fondly, he steps over to Prompto and pulls him close, sets his hands where back meets buttock and captures a pair of reddened lips in a kiss that soon grows far more heated and passionate than he intended. When he pulls back, he can no longer see the blue of Prompto's eyes and knows that his own pupils must be equally dilated by now.

”You're so damn pretty like this,” Gladio murmurs, and Prompto laughs without hesitation.

”Like you're one to talk,” he says, slipping his hands up Gladio's torso until they rest beneath his pectorals. Prompto licks his lips and looks up at Gladio, who almost startles when he sees the smirk fall off of Prompto's face. Before he can ask what's wrong, Prompto bends forward to lay a kiss on his chest, right where the eagle's head rests atop his heart, and for some reason, _this_ is what makes Gladio's brain shortcircuit. Not the overbearing lust he feels, not the promise of finally getting more, no – it's the simple, chaste kiss over his tattoo that rushes the blood back to his heart.

When Prompto pulls back, his eyes are wide but there's a pinch to his lip, the first hint of a smile, and Gladio leans in a kiss while simultaneously walking backwards until his legs touch the bed once more. He sits down without breaking the kiss, but just as he's about to roll Prompto down on the mattress, Prompto pulls away instead and drops down on his knees.

Gladio's mouth runs dry.

Prompto's blush is barely visible in the rapidly darkening room but Gladio catches the glint in his eyes, sees him looking up at him through long lashes, asking for permission, guidance, anything, as his hands rest at the waistband of Gladio's boxers. ”Can I–” Prompto begins, then cuts himself off abruptly to duck his head. ”Could I,” he tries again, gaze flickering between Gladio's eyes and bulging crotch.

”You don't have to,” Gladio finds himself saying, even if all he can think about is the sight between his knees. The expression that crosses Prompto's face is one part exasperation, one part hesitation, and with a sigh, Gladio lifts his hips up from the bed. It takes a moment before Prompto gets the hint but soon he's tugging Gladio's boxers down his legs and out of the way, adorable in his sudden haste.

Not that there ever is a time when Prompto isn't adorable, Gladio's mind supplies instantly. Whether cuddling in bed or hoisting heavy machinery at Crownsguard practice, Prompto always manages to carry an air of intense cuteness, sometimes tinted with danger and othertimes with the pink of Gladio's glasses – not that he'd ever admit it out loud. There are things Prompto likes being called, there are things he doesn't mind being called, and then there are the things he _hates_ being called, and unfortunately for Gladio, any variation of 'adorable' is in the last list.

He sees Prompto looking expectantly at him and smiles, bends down for one exploring kiss. ”Just watch the teeth,” he murmurs, pulling away until the string of saliva connecting their lips snaps and disappears, ”and don't try to take too much of it in.”

Prompto nods and slides his hands closer to Gladio's dick, past quivering muscles and the crop of wiry hairs above said organ. Gladio plants his own hands on the bed and leans back a fraction, spreading his legs further to give Prompto more space to work with.

The first touch if fingers curling to grasp the bottom of his cock is heavenly, more of a comfort than a pull towards a climax, and Gladio sighs his pleasure. Prompto's tongue is peeking out from between his lips as he concentrates on studying the dick before him, eyeing it like he's never seen a live penis before, and Gladio would – once again – think it adorable if not for the simple fact that all this waiting is not doing good things to his already flustered, aroused-beyond-reason self.

When Prompto finally does open his mouth, it's to lick the very tip of Gladio's dick, where precome has smeared over the darker skin. He pulls back almost immediately and Gladio watches him taste the drop of semen in his mouth, almost like Ignis tasting a new glass of wine (and that's an image he wants out of his mind stat), but soon Prompto purses his lips together and shrugs his shoulders in the universal 'huh, not bad' motion.

Gladio's stiffled laughter turns into a moan when Prompto leans in to lick a broad stripe up the entirety of his dick, from the bottom to the tip and over it. He's still figuring it out but he's also on the border of confident, so Gladio grunts and praises him, ”Yeah, that's it, baby, that's good,” fingers flexing against the cool sheets on his bed. He thinks he sees a glimpse of a smile on Prompto's face but can't be sure because of the angles, but either way his thoughts are all lost as Prompto trails his fingers towards his ballsack. He's so damn _close_ already from the lenghty make-out session, and when Prompto's lips finally circle the tip of his dick, it's so good he's a second away from blowing his seed right then and there–

–but what would it matter if he did? Prompto's mouth is clumsy around Gladio's dick, his hands a little too light and unsure, but none of that changes the fact that it's Prompto kneeling between his legs, the same Prompto he loves, the same Prompto who finally considers himself ready for more – and Gladio doesn't want to focus on the wait, doesn't want to make his thoughts sound like he'd minded it – and just–

”'M gonna come,” Gladio grunts, tangling a hand in Prompto's golden hair just before he spills. His warning is a little late – he barely has enough time to grab his dick with his free hand – and Prompto freezes as ropes of white cum hit the left side of his face, driblets already falling towards the surprised gape of his mouth. His lips are red and swollen, Gladio notices, so sweet and kissable, and he wants to bend down to suck his own spend from Prompto's face, but once again he's too slow. Prompto reaches a finger to swipe through the mess on his face, sniffs it before giving it a lick – as if he hadn'd just had a cock in his mouth – and frowns.

”It's not _that_ bad,” he says, though his words are mostly lost under the sudden bout of laughter that bursts from Gladio's throat. ”Still kinda icky, though.”

Blinking tears from his eyes, Gladio tugs Prompto closer and captures him in a kiss, licking and suckling until he can no longer taste himself on Prompto's tongue. Despite his earlier orgasm, he's hot and bothered again, his body left craving for more even if can't quite yet reach another erection. Prompto, though – Prompto's still hard in his underwear, and Gladio has a favor to return.

”You were so good, babe,” he croons, picking up a tissue to wipe the last of his cum from Prompto's face. He leaves the crumbled-up tissue on the nightstand and reaches to pull Prompto to his feet, stealing a kiss just because he can.

Prompto rises eagerly but stops to give both his legs a shake. The pause is long enough for him to see Gladio watching and he blushes, hands braced on Gladio's arms and body bent forward. Another moment later, he stands up straight and presses close until their bodies are flush against each other. He's breathing heavily, almost panting for breath, and the sight of him so flushed and wanton, reeking of sweat and cum, has to be the most gorgeous thing Gladio has ever witnessed.

Smirking, Gladio rolls Prompto onto the mattress with force that has the bed springs squeaking in protests. Prompto laughs, startled and breathless, but crawls back to the center of the bed without any prompting. Gladio joins him immediately after, settling down over Prompto's legs once again, and rests his hands just above Prompto's underwear. He's still wearing the tee shirt and doesn't seem too interested in losing it, so Gladio lets him be, instead choosing to crouch down until he can feel the warmth radiating through Prompto's chocobo-patterned boxer briefs. ”You mind if I...?” he asks, breathing in the heady musk until he sees Prompto nod. Grinning widely, Gladio first presses his mouth against the dark spot growing on the blue fabric, listens to the surprised gasp that spills from Prompto's lips within a second.

”Lift up a little for me, baby,” he murmurs, crooking his fingers under the shockingly yellow waistband. Prompto does as told and together they work the boxer briefs off, down a pair of pale legs until Gladio can pull them off for good. He balls them up and tosses them off the bed, not caring about where they land, and with a devilish smirk aimed at a stuttering Prompto, he leans back down.

The sound he pulls from Prompto with just one lick is almost a shout. Gladio grasps Prompto's dick in one hand and presses the other down on a bony hip to keep Prompto from moving too much, but his attempts are almost futile. Whether his hand or his mouth, every touch of Gladio's is enough to make Prompto squirm, hips bucking up while his legs cross behind Gladio's shoulders to keep him in place.

”D'you wanna cum like this?” Gladio asks after a while. It doesn't take long before Prompto is reduced to a trembling, shivering mess, hands grasping at sheets. He's close to coming, already, never mind that's it can't have been longer than two or three minutes, but then again they've been at it for what feels like hours already–

”What?” Prompto gasps, delirious with pleasure. It takes a moment before he actually understands he's being talked to and Gladio sees his face go from slack to frowning to nervous. ”No, wait – not yet! I was, I was thinking, if we could – we could fuck? Maybe?”

Gladio groans and buries his face in the fabric of Prompto's shirt. His dick twitches, already rising anew. ”Aw, shit, babe,” he says, trying to get his breath under control. He knows of the small but well-used collection of toys stored in a box under Prompto's bed, but this is their first time they're talking about... Very briefly, Gladio considers letting Prompto fuck him instead, almost asks him to, but they're both unprepared and he doubts Prompto could last enough to actually get his dick in, not when he's as keyed-up as he is.

”You don't want to?” Prompto asks, slightly worried. There's an anxious timber in his voice, old insecurities returning to disturb their calm.

”Some other time, okay, baby?” Gladio deflects, trying to think of an outcome that will leave them both satisfied. Prompto deflates a little but doesn't pull away, doesn't try to close his legs to hide from Gladio's gaze.

”You're getting kinda – ready down there, Big Guy,” he says, actually nudging Gladio's swelling dick with his knee, and Gladio can only hum in agreement. Arousal burns in his guts, demanding more and more with each passing second. ”So you could. You could fuck my thighs instead.”

Prompto squirms and chews on his lower lip, but his eyes are hot when they gaze at Gladio, barely wavering. ”Yeah?” Gladio asks, considering the idea – and what in idea it is, because the inside of Prompto's thighs is pale and soft, just enough flub remaining over the hard muscles to jiggle when Gladio digs his fingers in. ”You want that, baby? My dick between your thighs instead of your little hole?”

The room is too dark for him to make out the details of it, but when Gladio sees Prompto's lips twist into an embarrassed wobble, he knows he's blushing. Gladio leers where he's still leaning over Prompto's lower body and lays a kiss under a quivering navel, right where the thin trail of blond hairs disappears completely.

”Yeah,” Prompto murmurs, hiding behind his hands. The earlier bravado is gone from his voice but he strains his hips up all the same, trying to push against Gladio's chest but not quite managing. ”Yeah, I want that.”

”Hmm-m,” Gladio hums. He crawls up to kiss Prompto to swallow the beginning of a whine and reaches a hand towards the nightstand, blindy rummaging for the small bottle of lube he keeps there. He finds it no time at all, but since there's no hurry at all – since he enjoys this needy, flustered Prompto – he lets it drop on the pillows, instead choosing to pin Prompto's hand against the bed while he grinds down against him.

Prompto whines what sounds like an attempt at speaking, but Gladio is confident it's a plea for more rather than less, so he gives his best, crushing Prompto's body with his weight. Their naked dicks rub together for the first time ever, gliding smoothly from the mess of sweat and spit and precome, and Prompto's movements grow more and more desperate with each slide of their bodies. Their kisses are deep and unrelenting, and Gladio barely gives Prompto enough time to gasp a breath before diving in for a new one; as a consequence, there's a new urgency in the air, a thirst despairing to be quenched.

They could both come like this, with nothing but Prompto's sweat-drenched shirt between them, but no – Gladio pulls himself away, grinning almost darkly when Prompto tries to follow him but fails due to the hands still holding him down. He cries out, then, actually cries out, but Gladio won't relent.

”I thought you wanted to get fucked,” he huffs, slapping his fingertips against Prompto's hip. ”C'mon, baby, turn over for me.”

Despite looking like he was seconds away from pushing Gladio down to have his own way, Prompto does as told and rolls over, pushing his ass in the air without being asked to. Gladio can't resist laying his hands on the fleshy bottom before him so he goes on ahead, resting both palms on soft flesh. Prompto grumbles something inaudible but instead of pulling away, he pushes further into Gladio's hold, until Gladio leans forward to lick at the sweat pooling on his tailbone. This earns him a yelp and he grins, moving sideways to threaten the curve of Prompto's right cheek with his teeth.

” _I_ thought you wanted to _fuck_ me,” Prompto calls over his shoulder, tossing the bottle of lube over. Gladio laughs but sits back all the same.

”All in due time, baby,” he says, ”all in due to time.” Prompto looks like he's about to protest so Gladio makes a show of popping the cap off the lube, grinning when a petulant pout appears on Prompto's face.

The lube is cold when he smears it on his hand to slick up his dick. Gladio kisses Prompto's bum in apology before squeezing out more lube to slick up the inside of Prompto's thighs, which draws out a startled yelp. He cleans his had on the bed sheets – they're going to need a change anyway – and taps on Prompto's knee, guiding him into a better position. ”Keep your legs together,” he says, and for the next few seconds, they're a tangle of limbs as Prompto tries to comply. ”Yeah, that's good, baby.”

Gladio shifts up on his knees, closing the distance between them. His hands find Prompto's hips almost on their own, but when he looks down to see Prompto watching him over a freckled shoulder, eyes half-lidded and dark behind tufts of blond hair, the sight is enough to give him a pause. Prompto bites down on his lip but there's nothing nervous about him, only the expectant curve of his spine and the silent demand in his eyes, and so Gladio guides his dick in the slick gap at the top of Prompto's thighs and pushes in.

The first slide of soft skin around his cock is heavenly after the wait and the heated kisses. Gladio sighs and pulls back, moves his right knee back in search of a better position. Prompto's still watching him with the same expression, but when Gladio pushes forward the second thigh, he flexes his leg muscles and grins almost deviously when rewarded with a deep groan.

”I wanted you to fuck me,” Prompto murmurs, almost petulant. He moves his hand, reaching for his own neglected cock, but Gladio slaps it aside, now that he's found the right position.

”I know, baby, I know,” he sighs, smirking as he leans closer, bending his upper body until his fingers brush Prompto's dick. It's weeping, already, even without any stimulation, and Prompto cries out when Gladio takes it in his hand. Now, when he pushes his own dick past Prompto's thighs, touching smooth balls and the underside of Prompto's cock, it bumps into his palm.

The room is full of their sounds. Moans, groans, breathy pants, and the wet slaps of slick skin rubbing together. Gladio feels himself getting closer to the edge and beneath him, Prompto's starting to grow tense as well, even as an indecent slackness spreads into his muscles. They're moments away from collapsing on the bed so Gladio takes care of it with a frustrated groan and purshes Prompto flat on the bed until they're spooning. They can kiss, this way, except that there's so little air between them that Gladio's starting to feel more than a little lightheaded. What finesse there was in their rutting is now gone, as they push against each other in desperation, Gladio sneaking his free arm around Prompto's chest to grab at a fabric-covered chest, and if the shirt wasn't drenched before, it definitely is so now.

Gladio is the first to spill, his second orgasm drawn from him by the thight press of slick skin on his cock. He groans and halts, the moment too overpowering to withstand, and Prompto whines in response, arching into Gladio's still touch and rocking his body until Gladio recovers. ”Gladi-ah!” Prompto's moan turns into a breathless gasp when Gladio takes him in hand once more. ”Ah, ah, ah!”

Prompto looks too delirous to even close his mouth between the little sounds driven out of him by Gladio's hand. It's a sight Gladio can't resist, spit-shiny lips red and swollen, so he cranes his neck and clamps his own mouth over Prompto's. By now, their movements are so uncoordinated he misses on the first try, and the second only covers half of the gaping mouth breathing in stuttered gasps, but it's good enough as it is and Gladio decides he doesn't give a shit. His own dick is softening between Prompto's buttocks, almost too sensitive to the subtle twitches of milky flesh against it, and Gladio almost – almost – thinks he might just be up for a third go, but then he closes his eyes a second too long and that's that. In the sweltering heat, he's already on the verge of falling asleep, the writhing body in his arms more of a point of contentment than arousal. If he could, he'd willingly spend the rest of his life this, sweat-slick skin glued to his boyfriend, everything soft and hot and drowsy.

When Prompto comes, he does so with a sound like he'd just been punched in the guts. His body goes tense and he strains against Gladio's arms. A continuous babble of ”oh gods, oh gods, oh gods” falls from his lips and Gladio finally lets go, smiling contentedly when Prompto immediatelly rolls to the side, chest heaving and panting for breath. ”Sweet Shiva,” he gasps, pressing his face into the pillows. ”Sweet fucking Shiva.”

Gladio laughs and swats Prompto's side with his knuckles. ”That good, baby?” he asks, chuckling. His voice feels raw in his throat and he has to swallow a couple times before the burning recedes. Next to him, Prompto turns to his side so they're face-to-face once more, a shy but satisfied smile on his face as he nibbles on his lower lip.

”Yeah,” he whispers, still smiling, and something warm blooms inside Gladio's chest. Prompto pushes up on his elbows and leans in for a kiss that's so much more tender than any of the multiple ones they've shared so far; when he pulls away, his eyes twinkle in a way Gladio can only describe as love. ”Yeah, dude, it was.”

As sweet as the moment is, it can't last forever. As his body calms down, Gladio grows more and more aware of how uncomfortable he really is. His entire crotch is nothing but a mess of lube and come, some of it already drying where the smears are the thinnest, and he doubts Prompto's fairing any better. With a deep, exhausted sigh – he doesn't want to leave the bed, could fall asleep like this – he makes to get up, but a hand on his chest stops him. Unaware of having closed his eyes in the first place, he blinks up at Prompto, who still continues to smile with softness Gladio can't remember ever seeing before.

”Let me,” Prompto says, and a second later, he's gone. Gladio watches him wobble towards the ensuite, eventually disappearing, and then there's nothing more for him to see but the distant glow of a streetlamp shining through the curtains.

There's a wet spot under his bum but the more Gladio ponders about it, the less he cares. On an evening like this, when the sun is sweltering and the air hazy with lethargy, a damp patch doesn't mean much. Gladio's eyes drift shut as he luxuriates on the privilege of simply being, existing in such a precious, tender moment. His muscles are all loose and pliant, exhausted in a way that leaves him feeling like he was laying on a cloud. His mind, though, his mind – it's full of Prompto, images of a smile like sunshine and blue eyes that glow almost purple when the light hits them right. His Prompto, who's sweet and brave and strong under the layers of shyness and insecurity; his Prompto, who loves him just as Gladio loves him.

Something wet and cold slaps against his lower stomach and Gladio startles. The sensation is downright nasty as it breaks through the cloud of content hanging around him and he frowns, looking at Prompto in horrified disgust. It's a wet towel and yeah, he gets it, he appreciates it, but still – even as his skin acclimatizes to the cold touch, he still can't stop the disgruntled groan rumbling in his throat.

”Aww, sorry, buddy,” Prompto grins. He sits down on the edge of the bed and slaps Gladio's hand away from where it's creeping towards the towel.

There's little Gladio can do but acquiesce, so he sighs and folds his arms behind his head. Prompto takes the wet rag and starts on scrubbing the mess from Gladio's crotch and thighs, gently rubbing the towel against sensitive skin. The room is silent and almost dark, but a sliver of light from the ensuite is enough to cast highlights around Prompto's silhouette. Inside his happy bubble, Gladio missed the passage of time, yet minutes must have passed because Prompto is not only clean but wearing one of Gladio's tanktops. The neckline droops low on his chest and there are dark spots on the shoulder starts, from droplets of water gathering at the ends of his damp bangs.

Gladio barely sees any of it. Prompto continues to clean him slowly, gently, but his face is down-turned and almost his from view. ”You're so good to me,” he eventually murmurs, while carefully lifting Gladio's limp dick up to swipe his inner thighs clean. ”You know that? You're so good.”

It's what he says but not what Gladio hears. Prompto's words are a love confession in the language of the unloved. Gladio is fairly sure no-one else has ever told Prompto that he's important, loved, wanted – no-one but himself, and perhaps Noctis and Ignis, on days they've seen Prompto far too down in the slumps. The thought of being the first to love Prompto should be an exihilarating one, if his books are to be believed, but Gladio can't find joy in it. All too often he's been witness to the curious dichotomy of Prompto, who is slow to come out his shell and fast to retreat back in, the same Prompto who among friends is loud and exitable, the opposite of his other self.

”Like you're one to talk,” Gladio mutters, reaching to touch Prompto's cheek with his fingers. He thumbs the ghost of a smile lingering on those sweet lips. ”You're the one who's too good for me, baby.”

Later on, when they're both in bed and the lights are all off, Gladio gets up to open one of the windows. The sun is down, the air is cooling, but here in his room, the air is as warm as ever, a cloud of damp musk like a fog still surrounding them. At the window, Gladio stalls, enjoys the barely-there wind caressing his heated skin. Back in the bed, Prompto slumbers deeply, sprawled atop the covers with his arms and legs thrown aside. The weather's too hot for bed-sharing, never mind the cuddling Prompto deserves, but there's something soft and tender in the air all the same.

If he could, Gladio would spend every last minute of his life like he spend the day, with his arms around his boyfriend. It's not a feasible wish, he knows, but not entirely unrealistic either. If a lifetime is a series of moments, then he'll just have to make sure he'll have Prompto there, beside him, for each and every one of them – being loved, and hopefully still loving in return.

Their relationship hasn't been a long one, yet, but they've been friends for a handful of years now. Maybe it's too early, too soon, too impulsive of him, but for Gladio – for Gladio, this is all he wants.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Any comments and kudos are always more than welcome, your feedback is what keeps me going <3 You can also find me over at tumblr as @missymoth :)


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